The Land of Bountiful, Part 3

Bountiful BC

So continuing on my visit to Winston Blackmore in Bountiful, British Columbia - you can read Part 1 here, and Part 2 here.

In the morning, we got up and got ready.  We did up the living room for prayers, and then our friends.  We had prayers.

Our friend explained that the people here don't know that much about the endowment.  There were endowments done in the FLDS, but it was reserved for only the very elite, so they have a bit of a disdain for them.  He also said to not use the word “patriarchal”, because it is viewed in the same light.

While we were offering the last prayer, there was a knock at the door.  No one seemed to hear, but I could hear voices.  Whoever it was eventually just left.  There was discussion about whether or not they could see us through the window.  I don’t think it matters. 

After prayers, I could see that Winston had tried to call me.  My friends called, and we were told to come to breakfast to Winston’s house.  We got ready and packed up.

Right before we were ready to leave, my father-in-law lost the car keys.  I swear, first the credit card, and now the keys.  He finally found them, and we went to Winston’s for breakfast.  He was eating breakfast with Frank and Daryl Naylor, two older men from Bluffdale.  Their wives sat at the far end of the table, obviously separated from the men.  They asked how I was a Jessop.  They were Barlows, and they knew my Uncle Jim. 

Winston did mention that we must be deep sleepers, because he had knocked on our door and we didn’t answer.  Nothing else was said about it.

Breakfast was delicious.  After visiting, we got ready and went down to the meetinghouse.  It was quite a large meeting.  We took our seats, and Winston sat up on the stand with his brothers and the Naylors, along with Nate. 

It has been funny to observe Winston.  I would characterize him as a benevolent dictator.  In other words, it is obvious that he has a sincere love for all of those around him.  His children come up, and he is affectionate with all of them.  He is jovial and pleasant.  But he is definitely in charge.  He has his finger on the pulse of everything that happens in his community.  My friend said that many of Winston's children have left.  But he has done his best to keep everything together.  He controlled every aspect of the meeting, even leading the music.

He called on Frank Naylor who read an entire discourse by John Taylor.  Word for word.  Pausing after every few words for emphasis.  I was bored to tears.  They had a few other speakers – only people up on the stand.  Winston didn’t call on any of us to speak.  Oh well.

He called on all of his single daughters to sing.  It was beautiful.  I counted fifty of them.  Then a smaller group of daughters sang a version of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”, changing the lyrics so that the sexual metaphors were absent.  For instance:

I heard there was a sacred chord

That David played to please the Lord

But you don’t care about Jesus, don’t you?

After the meeting, everyone lines up to shake the hands of the people on the stage.  A couple of them were outright hostile.  One man I introduced myself to refused to give me his name.  I shook Winston’s hand and asked for his email address, but he didn’t know it right off hand.  He invited us to stay for lunch, but my father-in-law declined, saying that we had to push on.  I wish that we had stayed.

There was an old woman in her 80s sitting with the my friends.  She introduced herself to me as the daughter of Morris Kunz and Rhea Allred.  She is the sister to Aunt Nan and Aunt Millie.  She seemed very sweet.

We went outside and said bye to Nate and his sons, and to our friends.

They look so Jessop!  Me with Nate & his sons

On our way back, we got lost and started heading towards Creston.  We got directions and found the border.  It was way easier crossing into the States than it was going into Canada,  We stopped for dinner in Missoula, and tried to stay ahead of a snow storm, staying the night in Dillon, Montana.

Winston Blackmore is a good man.  I don;t care about the negative press.  He has held together his people in the recovery of the despotic travesty that is Warren Jeffs.

This trip - and other trips - taught me something significant to me.  We are all Mormon.  I am tired of factionalism and the things that divide us.  This has become somewhat of a theme with me lately.  I am tired of focusing on the things that set us apart.  I want to focus on the things that we have in common and work with every Latter-day Saint on whatever level I can, even if it is just to sit and break bread together.